


Locked On

by Wolfgang von Cemetery (enemy_xands)



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Anal Sex, Blackmail, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Bodily Fluids, Extremely Dubious Consent, Glory Hole, Hate Sex, Implied Relationships, Infidelity, M/M, Obsession, Public Hand Jobs, Revenge Sex, Shawn's kinda messed up, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-01 09:28:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5200781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enemy_xands/pseuds/Wolfgang%20von%20Cemetery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shawn is tired of Bret's goody two-shoes bullshit and sets out to prove they're not all that different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bad As Me

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back to Retro Night at the Heist, tonight we present you with a special, even more X-Rated Than Usual Feature that will surely ruin your childhood. But if you're here already, surely you don't care.
> 
> So [salamandelbrot](http://archiveofourown.org/users/salamandelbrot/pseuds/salamandelbrot) is not good for my sanity at all and in response to their latest slut!Shawn masterpiece (that killed me, btw) I had to up the ante with Kinda Fucked Up and Depraved!HBK. He's going to need Jesus by the end of this.
> 
> Theoretically this is supposed to take place in that vague period before the Screwjob but also not too long after Shawn kicked Kevin--I mean Diesel right in the face. It was gonna be kayfabe compliant then I was like naaah.
> 
> Consent is mentioned a few times but I would still say that 90% of the sex featured is extremely dubcon at best.

Shawn was sick of Bret's goody-goody bullshit.

The man was hardly a paragon of virtue--but he could hoist his ass up on that high horse because he didn't drink or take pills, unlike _some_ people. And somehow, he was a bigger slut than Shawn, but he only did it with women so again, upper hand.

And he waved it around in Shawn's face like walking papers whenever the two were in the same vicinity.

"Had your daily STD test yet, Michaels?"

Hahaha. Never mind that that's not how STI tests work or anything, not that Bret would know that.

Shawn dropped his head on the steering wheel. He almost never drove himself, pretty much didn't have to, but damnit he'd rented his own car and hadn't offered anyone a ride. Until he caught Bret walking along the edge of the lot.

Well, caught wasn't the word. More like "had stalked him for ten minutes".

Shawn rolled up beside the Hitman and opened the passenger side door.

"Get in, you son of a bitch."

To his credit, Bret was far from stupid. He gave Shawn a "the hell I look like?" glance and kept walking, faster. Shawn grumbled and followed.

"I'm serious!"

"We're not even going to the same place, Shawn!"

"I just wanna talk, man to man."

Bret gave another "you think I was born yesterday?" look but stopped this time. He got close to the car and perched his arms on the roof.

"Bout what?" 

"About us."

Bret recoiled sharply. "The hell?"

"Not like that, idiot, just get in!"

"My mom warned me about getting into strange cars, okay?"

Shawn huffed roughly through his nose. "Look, I've got a pack of Tootsie rolls with your name on it." That's what Canadians ate, right?

Bret looked around; they were making a scene, and his bag was heavy. He had a ride but he wasn't looking forward to it, and Shawn pissed him off but maybe he could deal with it for a few minutes. He slid into the passenger side and slammed the door.

Surprisingly, Tootsie roll was not a euphemism for dope. Shawn fished out a large roll from the bag on his side and shoved it in his palms. Now Bret definitely had more questions than answers, and he was pretty certain he was being kidnapped. He chewed on his chocolate and waited for Shawn to say something.

It took a few minutes, but his driver eventually launched in. "You know what it is, about you and me? You're jealous of my world. That I own up to who I am. I'm free, y'know? I don't have to bend over backwards trying to excuse my shit."

"Who the fuck said I do that?"

"Come off it, Bret. Where do you get off, anyway? Telling me how to live, what I should be up to, waving your finger and shit but I'm not the one cheating on my wife with ring rats."

Bret was immediately on the defensive but was also stopped by the horrifying realization that Shawn was totally sober. He was legitimately stark raving mad and kidnapping him under no influence.

"The fuck is your point?"

"You're as bad as me," Shawn answered with a horrible smirk. "You just don't see it from my point of view. Hell, in a lot of ways we're just alike. So you might as well go all the way."

The lights were flashing too fast for Bret to tell where they were, exactly, and his heart was racing inside his chest. He thought he was going to puke.

"We are nothing alike," he ground out. "And what the hell do you mean go all the way? The only place I'm going is the side of the fucking road if you don't take me to my hotel."

"Hold your damn horses, we're getting there. But first we gotta make a pit stop."

They pulled up into the parking lot of a little, dank, dark club. The only distinguishing mark on the blacked out windows was the large collage of sweaty men posted near the door.

Bret gripped the car door handle until his knuckles were white, didn't let go even when Shawn snatched the door open. He'd gone to the truck and gotten a camcorder.

"Come on, Brettie..." he sneered. He grabbed the other man's arm and jerked him out and pulled him into the club.

The club was somewhat predictably dark but well conditioned, but still managed to be humid like a petri dish of anonymous sex should be. The house music couldn't compete with the soft groans erupting from every corner like audible fountains and occasional sprays of sweat. Bret wondered how Michaels knew about this place, but was even more infuriated that instead of jerking his arm away and beating the shit out of the man with the nearest stool he was huddling closer to him.

Shawn was taking him down a hallway, and they passed a wall that even in the dim lighting Bret could tell had strategically placed holes. They slid in through a door on the side and suddenly the pornographic moaning was on full blast, courtesy of a movie playing in the background. Why it was heterosexual porn, Bret was not sure. But this area was far better lit with bench seats line with itchy material and a curiously stained floor. The holes in the glory hole wall were ridiculous, reaching well over his head and over the top of anyone's ability--giant or otherwise--to reach with any orifice. And both Bret and Shawn knew some tall ass cats.

He wouldn't be the least bit surprised if Shawn admitted to planning this whole thing from top to bottom.

Shawn, who was looking full of himself with his Polaroid camera, not camcorder like Bret originally thought. Why? He was focusing on random questions to delay the inevitable.

Shawn reached up and yanked Bret's hair out of the loose ponytail he'd arranged it in. Shawn's hair was already wild around his head and framed his face, helped enhance the crazy in his eyes. 

"Smile, babe." 

The camera flashed just as Shawn brought their lips together in a crushing, unpleasant kiss that Bret was shocked to find himself moaning into. His skin was prickly with goosepimples and he felt hot and cold at the same time; this place, the kiss, the camera, everything took his breath away and he was on the verge of passing out. 

He bit Shawn's tongue until he drew blood. Shawn didn't seem to care, laughed with a little of blood dribbling out the corner of his mouth. 

"Little Bret is going to lose his ass and mouth virginity tonight...or have ya already, hmm?"

"Fuck off, Shawn." 

"I will, but first I think you've got someone over there waiting." 

Indeed, there was a lonely cock jutting out to their far left, low enough that Bret could reach it if he sank to his knees and dipped. He started panicking, looking between Shawn whose smirk was only growing more horrid, and the arouse dick with clear fluid dripping from it.

"You know what to do, don't ya?"

"I-I've never done this--"

"I find that hard to believe," Shawn muttered. That pissed Bret off but he was too busy freaking out to do anything about it.

So Shawn forced him to his knees in front of the dick--he was wrong, the tip brushed against his nose after all--and led his mouth to it.

"Just suck it. Surely you've had a blow job by now. Come on. He might even like it if you bite it." 

The dick was sliding into Bret's mouth whether he liked it or not, salty fluids grazing over his tongue. The member wasn't quite large or long enough to choke him, something only Shawn seemed to be bothered by so far. The man on the other side thrust and bucked up, seemingly attempting it, but Shawn pulled Bret's head back at the last minute.

"You don't look like the type for a face fuck--yet," Shawn said with a chuckle. "Take the initiative!" 

Bret braced himself with his hands against the shaky wall otherwise Shawn would have slammed his head down until he had cum shooting out of his nose. Shawn created a surprisingly good rhythm for Bret and the hapless soul on the other side, who was wriggling around and thrusting aimlessly until he settled for letting himself be sucked off. He didn't last that long, thankfully, and came just as Shawn was pushing Bret's head forward again. What cum he caught in his mouth, he spat on the ground, adding to the catalog of Curious Stains next to him.

"Aw, Bret, you need your protein to get stronger!"

He was highly aware of Shawn's unbusy hand snapping pictures; he knew how this was going to work. If he told anyone, a few highly embarrassing photos of himself sucking dick would leak to the press, his family, and every promoter with two dollars in three countries. He'd be wrestling penguins in Antarctica if his career recovered that far. As for what Shawn would do with the pictures in the mean time, he was afraid to guess. But when Shawn moved away and sat on one of the benches, he knew that ol HBK didn't need to tell him how fucked up he was right now.

Stupid. Fucking stupid. 

He'd had quite enough of blowjobs already, not to mention his jaw was already sore. So the next few "visitors" received very strong, very hateful handjobs.

Shawn kicked back and let the Polaroids fly. He kept them lined up to make sure they developed properly--he didn't want to miss a single minute. He kicked back on the bench and watched as his boy worked. Fuck, Bret's hateful glances were turning him on more than he expected. He knew he was slippery-wet like a girl in his jeans, and if Bret mouthed "fuck you, motherfucker" one more time in his direction he would probably come hands free. 

Fuck, he couldn't take it anymore. With his free hand, he unbuckled his jeans and first started palming himself just to get Bret's attention. The Hitman didn't look one-hundred percent surprised that Shawn was masturbating, but still slightly aghast. At this point he had figured out how to use both hands to bring more than one person off, and that was good. Despite his best efforts, the front of his shirt and the very edges of his hair were getting covered in spunk. 

He was so _pissed_ his cheeks were red, and he kept stealing downcast glances at Shawn, who had gotten up and was inching ever so closer.

"Don't do it," Bret ground out. "I'll bite it off, I swear to God I will."

The thought of that just made Shawn's eyes glaze over. "Don't do what, Bret? Cum all over that pretty face?" 

Bret shuddered. He used his thumb against the tip of a stranger's cock to bring them off quickly so he could get this over with. Shawn was looking at him a bit...unhinged and he wasn't sure if he could take anymore "surprises" tonight. 

Fortunately, all that happened was Shawn cumming on his shoulder and slinking back to his bench for a few more pictures. 

Shawn felt oddly blank after his orgasm. He should still be giddy, probably gearing up to go again in a few because he was that rare guy with relatively low downtime, but right now he just felt a little...irate. Bret still wasn't doing enough, and his handjob technique was getting a little old. Seeing the nearly endless parade of dicks was getting a little old too. They were done for the night, here. 

He let Bret finish off one more guy then hoisted him up and discretely dragged him out of the room. He secretly reveled in how sticky and hot and wet the other man's hands were.

He threw a few bills in a tip jar and took Bret into the outside world, where the other man promptly threw up. Shawn rolled his eyes and waited until Bret collected himself. He gave Shawn one more baleful glare that sent another jolt to his cock before getting in the car, wrapping his arms around himself.

They drove in silence, and with some terror Bret realized Shawn knew exactly where his hotel was, although he was pretty sure he hadn't told anyone. Well, no, of course Michaels was well-connected enough to know the two or three people outside of his family that knew. Why was he surprised by anything tonight?

Surprisingly, it was him that spoke first. "So that's your world, eh? What you wanted me to understand?" 

Shawn scoffed like he was talking to an imaginative child. "Not so bad, is it?"

"Shawn..."

"Oh, I was with you the whole time. I wasn't gonna let anything untowards happen to ya. And anyway, why didn't you just leave if you didn't want to be there?"

Bret grumbled under his breath and Shawn chuckled.

"Come on, Hitman. You could have fought, right? Just admit you were curious. Curiosity killed the cat..."

"But satisfaction brought it back," Bret finished like he knew Shawn expected him to. He sighed but there was no safe place on himself to rest his head. 

And then he realized. He'd have to go into his hotel...in public...be seen...like this.

"Oh god. Oh, god, I need to shower."

"Hmm? Why don't you just...oh. Hahaha." Shawn looked him over once and then his smirk deepened. "I've got a shower, and I'm closer."

Keep trusting the snake or walk into a busy hotel lobby cum-drenched?

"I'll take my chances."

Shawn was a little surprised at that answer and a little not, and yet wholly turned on. Resistance was futile but Bret was making it incredibly sweet, and when he finally wore him down he was going to--

The door slammed as Bret and his duffel bag escaped without so much as a goodbye. Shawn laughed a bit to himself and circled around to get back on the interstate towards his own settlement for the night. Oh, and he had another pit stop to attend to. Miles to go before he slept.


	2. Bad As You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come on Bret, love yourself a little more and fucking run already. Nothing good is going to happen to you! My inner Hitman-mark is really sad right now.

Kevin and Sid weren't exactly friends, but on his way out as HBK's hired muscle, he'd warned him of two things:

"Don't get comfortable. And...ah, shit gets a little weird with Shawn sometimes."

He felt like the first part was a threat, but the second half was vague enough to take seriously. Shawn's habits were no secret around the locker room so Kevin's version of "weird" must have been pretty serious.

He'd already seen some things he couldn't unsee. But then Shawn showed up at his hotel room with pictures of Bret Hart and multiple dicks, hot and ready.

The pictures laid spread out on his bed. He looked them over a few times and realized maybe even he didn't have quite the stomach for this.

Shawn was gleefully stripping and recounted the story of dragging Bret to the sex club. His version of events sounded consensual, but Sid was pretty sure the reality was far more illegal.

Sid was a man that liked to cut right to the point, so he ran his hands through his hair and cut through Shawn's blather. "Okay, yeah, but why."

"Why?"

"There's a billion different ways you could have humiliated the man, why this? It could fuck up your career, too, man."

Shawn smiled and it was oddly serene. "Don't underestimate my connections ever again, Sid. Besides, what's a better way to ruin that old Pollyanna than whoring him out?"

That made sense for Shawn, Sid had to admit. One of the more disturbing features of his boss, however temporary, was his obsession with his opponents. He tried to make it seem like the other way around, but Shawn went to great lengths to know his enemies inside out.

And that wasn't a bad thing, but with Bret it was...different. Very personal. If Sid didn't know any better, he'd say Bret shot the man's mother. He'd seen guys get a similar way in smaller regions, but moaning your enemy's name in the shower was a new one on him.

And this took the cake, or rather almost did, as Sid suddenly wondered why the hell Shawn was naked in his room at midnight.

Shawn was close to him now and Sid knew this was the point where he was meant to shut up and get hard. Shawn's hand was already cupping him and the man was a million miles away.

Kevin didn't seem to get it or didn't want to, and Sid didn't blame him. Just being in Bret's life to ruin it was enough to get Shawn off screaming.

Sid bent him over the bed so he could indulge in his lurid photos. He fucked him rough and barely lubed up just how the boss liked it. Shawn grunted his name when he came and took a long, wet lick of one of his photos--the one of him and Bret kissing, must be his favorite.

Sid followed a few thrusts later and let Shawn drop limp on the bed, still staring at his prized photos. He shook his head, was about to tell the man to please get the fuck out but Shawn got up and dressed on his own.

He left with a "see ya". Sid slumped down on his bed. Maybe it was time for therapy.

~~~

Bret had showered three times by the time he finally woke up that morning. The cliché was true, you really never felt completely clean. Even though he reasonably knew nothing was inside him he felt like something was wriggling around in there, still.

He pushed it aside; he needed to go to the gym, a crowded public gym. Maybe even the Y. It was never too late to call a camera crew, too.

(Michaels would probably be into that.)

Fuck! Why couldn't he stop thinking about him? Those eyes, his gaze burning, tongue hanging out and staring at him like a piece of meat. He shuddered. Nothing had leaked yet, and he sure as hell would know if it did.

Clutching at his arms, he pulled on his day clothes and threw the rest of his workout gear in a bag. If he walked aimlessly in the lobby a while he'd run into Owen, he always did.

As it turned out, Owen was down there already and appeared to be having an intense back and forth with a...fan? He was holding a notepad and pen over a man about a head shorter than him. Bret cocked an eyebrow and got closer.

Alas, the argument was mostly over by the time he got close enough to bear, and Owen sent the man on his way with a playful shove.

"What was that about?"

"Whadda mark," Owen said. "Asked if we really do Sharpshooters on each other in the living room."

It was so stupid Bret was laughing before he realized it. He was used to getting goofy questions but that really did him in. He needed that laugh, really bad.

Owen turned to leave and was surprised to see Bret in his...personal space. His older brother wasn't the clingy type but he was practically breathing down his neck.

"Uh...you coming?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Not even going to ask where we're going?"

Bret shrugged. "I mean we're either gonna eat or lift weights right?"

Owen leaned over and whispered, "I'm going to a brothel." Bret snorted.

Owen didn't mind hanging out with Bret at all, even though they weren't supposed to really be seen together--maybe? They were still actually brothers, after all. But something was off. Something beyond simple clinginess and checking around every corner. He was in a daze and kind of out of it, like he hadn't slept in a few days. It worried him, but Bret was also not the type to just blurt out if something was wrong unless it affected people around him.

He sighed and kept up his attempts to lighten the mood. By the time they'd gotten back from the gym (twice) and Waffle House (three times), he was ashen and exhausted from running his mouth a million miles an hour.

They hung around in the lobby for a few minutes longer, Bret looking like he was attempting to drift back to the land of the living.

"So when do you roll out?"

"Nine. Gonna be brutal."

Owen patted his shoulder gamely. "Well...get some rest." He bit his lip. "Don't wanna tell me what's wrong?"

Bret rubbed his arm reflexively. "Not...yet."

"Get some rest."

They nodded to each other and Bret left for his room upstairs, exhaling a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

He slid his key in and closed the door. The minute the door shut something already smelled wrong in here, heavy cologne he didn't wear drifting in the air.

"Aw, you might as well turn a lamp on at least."

Someone did it for him. The bedside lamp switched on and bathed his nemesis in soft white light on his bed.

Bret screamed and lunged, but Shawn caught him and fended off his fists.

"Hey now, hey! Calm the fuck down, man!"

"Get out of my life, goddamnit!"

Shawn shoved Bret against a wall, knocking down a picture frame. He tried to crush their lips together but Bret headbutted him and pushed him away.

"You're fucking crazy!"

Shawn just laughed and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. "I just wanna apologize, shit."

"You break into my room to apologize?" Bret sneered.

"First, I didn't break in. I got a key." Shawn winked. "Two, well, yes."

"Fuck you, Shawn!" Bret spat. "I don't want your fuckin' apology, just get out!"

Shawn's face drooped as he put on his best puppy eyes. "Not even if I'm really, really sorry?"

"You're not sorry."

Shawn rolled his eyes. "Sorry for showing you a good time. Besides, you still haven't explained why ya just didn't leave."

"And let you blackmail me with your little dirty pictures? Get real."

Shawn held up his hands defensively. "Blackmail? Oh no, that was purely spank bank material. Memoirs of our good times together, y'know?"

Bret stuttered a bit. "You...you kept them just to jack off?" His heart was racing again and he was decidedly uncomfortable for a number of reasons, the least of which was his waning resolve. "That's...sicker..."

"Yeah..." Shawn got close to him again to mutter in his ear. "But it makes ya feel a little dirty, don't it?"

It did, oh god. That was the feeling that he couldn't wash away: he felt filthy inside and some part of him was enjoying it. He groaned and shoved Shawn away and tried to make himself smaller against the wall. 

"Told you, you're a bad as me." Michaels just kept fucking coming, seemingly undeterred by the fact that Bret was a step away from removing his face. "We've all got little...secrets we wanna hide..."

"Alright!" Bret made a move to punch, but his arm grew weak at the last minute. "I liked it, okay? You win." 

"Ooh, I win? What do I get?" 

"The satisfaction of whatever you were trying to fuckin' accomplish." Bret sighed and started to sink down. "Okay. You're tired of me judging you, right? We're even now." 

It felt good to get that off his chest, even if it was quite a ways to go for something so childish. He straightened up only to find Shawn's arms wrapped around his waist. He looked down and tried pulling away, but Shawn only drew him closer.

"Even, huh. But only one of us can show any kind of humility. At least I actually said sorry." Shawn snorted. "I bet you don't think you have anything to apologize for."

"I'm...I'm sorry."

"Hmm." Shawn nuzzled the side of Bret's neck with his nose and breathed in deep. "I can still smell them on you, you know?" 

Bret was mortified at the way his cock jumped with shame and lust.

Shawn abruptly dropped his arms and eased away, headed for the door. The smirk on his face practically glowed in the shifting hotel light.

"You get it now, right? Once you let yourself be free...you can't go back. Good luck having a normal relationship ever again. Aaand... _now_ we're even, babe." 

Shawn eased himself backwards out the door, with a curt bow. He closed the door but not completely, just enough for a small, tempting crack. Alone in his room, Bret swallowed thickly and hot, his fingers tapping against the comforter on his bed.


	3. Mutual Snakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This suddenly turned into Eyes Wide Shut as Shawn is hellbent on fucking every one up just because he can

_Scott had laughed so hard he snorted when Shawn made his announcement. Shawn frowned; Scott wasn't supposed to laugh at him sober, nor when he made important life-changing decisions._

_"What's so funny?"_

_"You're really trying to date him? Isn't he too square for you?"_

_Shawn shrugged. "He don't have to be. He's just a little young, that's all."_

_"Oh, so he'll grow into it." Scott rolled his eyes, somewhat amazed. "Well, what about you?"_

_"What about?"_

_"Are you going to grow into being monogamous?"_

_It was Shawn's turn to laugh. "Hey, first time for everything."_

_"Oh, brother..."_

As these things turned out, Shawn had no real intention of lying to himself, but he couldn't punk reality as easily and he fell back on his old ways. Hunter just sort of dealt with it with a wry smile, and Shawn hated it. He started to think Hunter was only fucking him so lovingly and tenderly just to spite him.

And as Shawn found out, the kid was a little more than everyone thought he was. His interactions would have you thinking he was just some green punk looking for a chance, but considering where he came from...or rather, escaped from. Hunter wasn't here to make friends and be nice, he was here for opportunity. Even his relationship with Shawn was a step-up of sorts.

Different species of snake, same reptile. Shawn didn't mind it at all.

But he was still a bit of a square as Scott had warned, but to keep Shawn playing with him he didn't mind...branching out.

Shawn turned around to make sure Bret was following him, and he was, slowly with his head down. Good. They went outside and to the rental car; like a gentleman, Shawn let Bret in first. 

"Wait, aren't you supposed to be gone right now?" 

Shawn covered his face so he could roll his eyes in peace. The hell did that even matter? "Aw, looks like I missed my flight out this morning. Darn." 

Bret didn't believe that at all, but knew Shawn wasn't interested in telling him the truth. He closed his eyes for the majority of the ride, not even wanting to know where they were going this time, just wanting the feeling in the pit of his stomach to go away and to sleep. 

"Not even going to ask where we're going?"

"A brothel, I assume." 

Shawn snickered then briefly wondered why he hadn't thought of that.

They pulled into the parking garage and Shawn had to drag Bret to the elevator; he was getting slow and his eyes weren't focused like he was on something, but Shawn knew he couldn't be. The man was pretty heavy when adrenaline wasn't triggering his fight or flight responses. Luckily, he was only on the third floor and with a lot of effort they finally made it largely unseen.

He opened the door just enough for Bret, then himself to slip through. He made no pretense of mystery as the light was still on from when he left it, with the lone figure sitting on the bed, blindfolded. There was rope around his wrists but they were unbound for now, for his comfort. Shawn had no idea how long it would take to convince Bret, but if he'd known it would have been so easy...he smirked to himself.

Bret's eyes went wide. "Is that...?"

"Aw yeah." 

"But--why?" 

"Oh don't worry, he wants to." Shawn clapped Bret's shoulder and moved past him. "I don't make anyone do anything they don't want, right?" 

Bret shook his head slowly. "I...can't..."

"Why not? Look at him, he's ready. Probably got hard just thinkin' about it."

Shawn walked around to the side of the bed where his theoretical boyfriend sat, so stone still he didn't even look to be breathing, and busied himself with tying him back up. Bret was still close to the door but his feet said he wasn't going anywhere. Instead, he just watched with morbid fascination as Shawn hummed to himself and expertly tied a complex knot.

"Brettie loses his ass virginity part two," he said in a sing-song voice, then his face darkened. "You _are_ , aren't you?"

Bret nodded numbly, expecting Shawn to laugh or something cruel, but the man finished tying his knot and stood up, a series of emotions flashing across his face. He looked...conflicted? Bret couldn't imagine what he would even be conflicted about right now, all things considered. 

Shawn grabbed his shoulders again almost, hilariously, like they were going to hug, but instead he pulled Bret in for another bruising kiss, this time shoving his tongue in and obscenely licking around. Bret felt his knees go weak and nearly give out, but Shawn had such a tight grip on him he knew he wasn't going anywhere. Then Shawn was restlessly grabbing at his clothes and trying to shred them off until Bret maneuvered himself free and took his shirt off of his own volition. Hunter was briefly forgotten on the bed as Shawn practically chased Bret around the room, grabbing at his bare skin and biting his lips.

He was smiling when he backed Bret against a wall again, but it was an awful look and Shawn soon forced him down into a heap on the floor. He followed shortly after and ran his fingers along Bret's waist band before dipping his hands in to grace his finger tips long the straining cock. 

Now, that made him laugh cruelly. 

"Take 'em off." 

Bret slowly got to his feet so he'd have an easier time. He unzipped his jeans and slid them off, with Shawn helpfully tugging them down the rest of the way.

Shawn was looking up at him, still smiling, wetting his finger with his tongue.

"I bet you're tight as fuck."

He grabbed Bret's thigh and jerked his legs apart so roughly Bret nearly fell. Shawn slid his wet finger down Bret's ass crack and wiggled it, carefully, into his anus.

Bret jerked forward with a sharp yelp. He grabbed Shawn's wrist, caught between moving his finger in deeper and taking it out completely. But he didn't have long to struggle as Shawn broke away and took his hand down.

"Just like I thought. Crawl on over there."

Bret moved his legs to walk until Shawn cleared his throat. "I said fucking _crawl_." So he dropped to his knees and crawled over to Hunter, still on the bed with his member standing up at attention and leaking.

"Hunt, get on your knees."

Hunter wordlessly obeyed and dropped to his knees off the bed in one smooth, well-rehearsed motion. Shawn finally got up off the floor and headed for the bed side table. He opened the top drawer and grabbed a bottle of lube and a condom, chucked them at the ground.

"I suppose you'll be wanting this and that," he muttered with an exaggerated annoyed face. 

What Bret actually wanted was a shower and some Valium, but he would settle for Shawn's display of generosity. Because he wasn't totally brand new to this, he unrolled the condom over Hunter's cock and lubed him up well, saving some for himself too. The positioning was awkward considering Hunter was a little taller, but Bret turned around and used a free hand to guide his cock to his opening.

Hunter didn't need much instruction and thrust instinctively, burying himself in. Bret hissed and pushed back the rest of the way and tried to give himself a minute to adjust.

Shawn looked positively giddy, snapping pictures with his Polaroid again.

"Smile, baby!"

Neither Bret nor Hunter obeyed that request. Both of them were trying to settle on a rhythm and an angle without Hunter falling backwards because his equilibrium was off. Bret finally gave up any illusion of control and dropped forward a little to let himself be fucked.

He rested his head on his arms. He knew Shawn was very close, probably right over him, still snapping away. The thought made him spread his legs a little wider and start moaning softly.

Shawn bent down and pressed his ear to the floor. "How is it? Huh? Good? Speak up!"

A pointed thrust forced a high-pitched moan out of Bret and Shawn savored it. He grabbed Bret by the hair and forced him into a kiss, drinking in muffled profanities and grunts as his climax approached.

"Ah-ah-Sh--fuck!"

Shawn skinned his finger tips running his hands along the rough, worn carpet. Bret came, splattering his seed onto the carpet and his own thighs. Shawn stroked his hair and pushed it back behind his ears, hoping Bret was regarding him with hatred so strong it would bore a hole in his chest and destroy him.

Bret's eyes were a little cloudy, but his expression was...blank. Neither particularly pleased but not mad, either. Perhaps resigned. Shawn kissed him again, softer this time.

Hunter wriggled out of his bonds that had loosened up--Shawn wasn't that good--and took off his blindfold. He was two parts horrified and one part mystified to see his lover and the Hitman making out in front of him.

"I thought I heard you."

Bret tore away and looked up. "You didn't know?"

"Not really. Wasn't thinking about it, but it makes perfect sense."

Bret saw Hunter and Shawn exchange looks with such vitriol that he felt like a slutty homewrecker, never mind the fact that he didn't even want to be in this.

The three of them got up, Bret and Hunter getting dressed. Shawn offered Bret a shower, but Bret was pretty sure there was a video camera hooked up in there somewhere so he declined.

"I'll clean up. Take him home, Hunt."

Hunter nodded stiffly and escorted Bret out the room and back to the parking garage. Shawn made good on his word and scrubbed the cum-stain out the carpet as best he could, never mind the rest.

He lines up his pictures and made sure they had all developed properly. They looked good, but there wasn't enough of Bret's face in them...and too much Hunter. A physical body attached, unlike the disembodied dicks in the club, dampened his spirits a little. He glared.

By the time Hunter got back thirty minutes later, Shawn had found a Sharpie in Hunter's bag and was scratching him out of every photo.

"Get him home okay?" Shawn asked without looking up.

Hunter sat on the edge of the bed, back turned.

"More or less. You get what you wanted?"

"More or less. Did he say anything about me?"

"We talked."

"What'd ya talk about?"


	4. Told You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man I almost accidentally made Shawn repent phew

_Hunter would have rather shoved Bret in the trunk and taken him back to his hotel that way, but he didn't think Shawn or Bret would appreciate that. They got into Shawn's rental and hit the highway._

_He'd hoped the trip back would be silent. Bret was radiating shame from every pore and he smelled like sour sweat to Hunter's sensitive nose. But Bret was getting fidgety in his seat, kept rolling the window up and down._

_"So what's your damage?" Bret finally exhaled. "You in on this? Or are you just a bystander?"_

_"Don't worry, I'm just his personal sex toy," Hunter spat. "I've got no stake in this...except that it makes him happy."_

_"What?"_

_"It does," Hunter said and nodded to himself. "It really does. You make him happy."_

_"He hates me!"_

_"It's more complicated than that." Hunter spoke like he was coming into an epiphany. "He actually really hates himself."_

_Bret had no idea why Hunter was having such an intimate conversation with him, but he listened quietly._

_"He fills himself up and his time with...this, just to get away from himself. But he's lonely. He has me, but..." Hunter stopped to smile wryly. "Apparently I'm not playing along. But you are. He wants you...down in it with him, I guess, because he still respects you sort of."_

_Bret let his head hit the back of the seat. "That's quite a long ways to go."_

_"I never said he was fucking rational. But, Psychoanalysis 101 is over. This is your stop."_

When Hunter got back to his and Shawn's shared room, he saw his lover lying on the bed, marking over his precious Polaroids like he was idly scribbling in a coloring book. When he peered down, he saw that Shawn was marking him out of the pictures.

"If you didn't want me in them, why didn't you just fuck him yourself?" he yelled, exasperated. This was childish at the very least.

Shawn smiled and covered the marked photos with his arms. "Jealous?"

Hunter snorted. "No. You are."

Shawn frowned and picked up his photos. He rolled off the bed and stuffed them into a planner he carried around.

"You're gonna get caught with those. Then what?"

Shawn seemed to consider it a moment, then scoffed. "You're just trying to scare me."

"Why would I do that?"

"If I knew why you did anything--" Shawn stopped and took a deep breath. "Let's not fight tonight, hm? I'd rather do something else."

Normally, Shawn's gravitational pull could rival a medium-sized planet's. But tonight, Hunter waved him off and turned the TV on.

"Maybe later."

Shawn shot up and glared so hard at Hunter's back he hoped he dropped dead.

"You know what Hunt? Fuck you! You're almost as bad as him, always getting up on your high horse and judging everyone under you!"

Hunter crossed his arms over his chest and thought. Maybe he was wrong, what he told to Bret. Maybe things weren't really that complicated.

"What's the difference between him and me, Shawn? Shoot straight. Is it just because I actually opened myself up to you and he won't?"

Shawn was quiet, waiting to see where this line of conversation was going.

"You love him, don't you? No, you don't understand stand that. You want him so bad you don't know what to do with yourself, so you just turned it into hate because it was easier."

Shawn's frown turned murderous for a split second before he returned to neutral. "I'm not nearly the monster you're trying to make me to be."

Hunter pushed his hair back and turned around. "You're a lot of things, but tragic ain't one of them."

"Then WHAT, pray tell, am I, dearest?"

Shawn got up and stalked off to the bathroom. Hunter chased after him a few seconds after he slammed and locked the door.

"Why don't you answer that yourself, huh?" he yelled and banged the door with his fist for good measure. "A lot of us would like to know!"

"God's gift to all y'all," Shawn grumbled. "Enjoy it."

He slid down, pictures splayed off to his left. When did he bring them in here? He hadn't meant to. But while he was here...

He gleefully shoved his hands down his pants, first to finger himself then to unzip and free his member. He jerked off, first like an adolescent boy who hadn't gotten the hang of it yet, then slower and more deliberate. Then he frowned. And sighed.

He wasn't feeling it...god only knew why, unless it was punishment for pissing Hunter off again. Unlike Bret, Hunter being made at him was a total boner kill. He never let shit go, hell he was still bringing up arguments from months ago that Shawn was too drugged out of his mind to remember.

But it wasn't really that, was it? He looked over his pictures again. True, it was a little creepy that there were black scribbly blocks where Hunter used to be. And now that the feeling had passed, he wasn't even sure why he did that.

He thought back to the other photos from the club. Those always did the trick, especially the forced kiss. He was going to get that one blown up and framed. Thinking of it filled him with something...warm.

He stood up abruptly, unnerved. He gathered the photos off the ground and stormed out of the bathroom to find Hunter half asleep on the bed watching _Night of the Living Dead_.

"All done?" Hunt muttered sleepily.

First order of business, Shawn tucked himself back in. Next, he rummaged around for a lighter.

"For your information, love," he said...found it. "I was doing it to protect your reputation."

Hunter sat up. "Really."

"Really. But I realize now, the actual error was the photographic evidence. In essence, if it makes ya feel better, _I fucked up_."

Shawn had Hunter's full attention now, both for admitting his wrong-doing and because Shawn was holding a flame up to the photos.

"Wait! You'll blow us up!"

"Relax."

The pictures went up in flame and blue smoke like a magician's trick. Shawn ran to the window and threw them out one by one, watching them fall into the night. Hunter joined him, a little bemused.

Ash and burnt Polaroids rained down upon the unsuspecting parking lot. Shawn watched with a soft grin; it was like it never happened, now.  
~~~~

"Where's the nearest flower shop, anyway?"

Sid cocked an eyebrow, first of all at the fact that Shawn expected him to know that answer. They rode together purely for publicity purposes, if that. But this man just looked him dead in the eye and asked where a flower shop was, rather than their driver, who surely knew.

Also, a flower shop?

"What for?"

"I got a sweetheart I need apologizin' to." 

Sid snickered. "Hunter catch you out there again? Think he'd be used to it by now." Sid wasn't allowed in on too much of Shawn's personal life other than hearsay, but what he did know he used like a battering ram to snark the hell out of it.

If Shawn was bothered by that remark, he didn't show it. Instead, he smiled sweetly and shook his head. "Nooo," he drawled.

"Then what?"

"Somethin' else." 

Sid looked over at his boss; the man was practically begging for him to ask who and what. Sid pondered whether it was worth the effort to even know. He'd already been scarred over the course of two days, he wasn't sure he could handle anymore. Watching the boss squirm was fun, but he'd be lying if he said there wasn't a tingle of curiosity there. 

He leaned up in his seat and repeated the question to the driver, who also looked at him goofy, but shrugged and said he knew of one. Rather, a cousin. Good enough. Sid flopped back in his seat.

"Alright, come on."

Shawn clapped his hands together and Sid knew his eyes were sparkling behind his dark shades.

"'Chrysanthemums, to my dearest Hart.'"

Sid frowned, then looked aghast. "Oh, no."

"Roses?"

"Ah, no. Do you...is this really a good idea?"

"Why not?" Shawn pouted. "I really am sorry."

There were a million questions running through Sid's mind, all of them in the general vicinity of "why the fuck would you think that's a good idea?" but they were approaching the cousin's flower shop. He pinched the bridge of his nose; time to use that therapy clause.

~~~~  
After some arguing, Shawn had settled on some roses. He hated the scent of them, but the clerk told him that cliches really did work. 

He would be nice, this time. Bret clearly wasn't a fan of the hotel room key trick, so he would do things the way normal people did them...for once. He knocked.

And waited.

And waited some more.

He saw shadows shifting under the door--because he looked--so he knew someone was in there, damnit. He was about to knock again when the door slipped open enough for him to slide through.

The room was dark save for the blue-white light of the sun streaming through the curtains. Bret circled around his hotel room bed and sat down, back to Shawn, position hunched over.

"Oh, darling, you look exhausted."

Shawn set the flowers down on the bed side table and crawled on the bed. His touch on Bret's shoulders made the other man jolt up but he sagged again as if a great weight had been put upon him. Shawn shrugged and started massaging gently. 

"Here to rub it in my face some more?" Bret's voice was gravelly and hoarse from disuse.

"Rub what?"

"I guess you think you've uncovered some deep, dark secret about me."

Shawn laughed sharply. "No. I don't care." 

Bret turned his head as much as he could without snapping his own neck. "You don't care? Then what was all this?"

"Sounds like you discovered something about yourself," Shawn muttered and worked on his shoulder blades. "Good. I told you, I just wanted you to see things from my point of view. Anyhow, sorry 'bout kidnapping you even though you came willingly." 

Bret finally noticed the roses--white, of course--on the table and thought he was slowly losing his mind. No, he had _lost_ his mind, this was just the remnants clawing desperately to make themselves known before being washed away completely. 

Shawn got off the bed and walked around until he was positioned between Bret's knees. He tipped the man's head up with his fingertips.

"No one else is ever gonna be able to give you what you want. You know that." 

Bret tried to suppress the shudder trying to make its way down his spine but he couldn't. Seeing the other man sitting before him, lips parted, eyes all big and doe-like and chest heaving...fuck, Shawn hated topping, but it brought out his inner dom. He pushed Bret onto his back and straddled his waist, then bent over to pin his wrists.

"Whaddya want?" 

Bret closed his eyes and sighed through his nose. "Touch me."

"Where?"

"All over." 

Shawn obliged and kissed Bret's neck, ran his hands across his chest and down his sides. Bret rocked against him, gently at first, then more urgently as their erections ground against each other. Shawn sank down lower for a kiss, long and languid, taking his time to memorize the slightly salty, bittersweet taste of black coffee and long nights. 

Bret was whining under him and Shawn drank it in; fuck, was this what it was like? He was ready to tear him up and nothing had even happened yet. He came up for air and saw Bret panting below him. He pulled the other man up to his feet and dragged him to the window. He pushed the curtains back, then swung Bret around to press him flush against the glass.

"Look at em down there," Shawn said, eying the steady stream of early birds on the sidewalk. "All they'd have to do is look up. Think they'd recognize you? What would they _say_?" 

Bret whined when Shawn sandwiched one warm hand between his flesh and the cool glass of the window to tease his nipples, and the other slid inside his pants to caress his thigh achingly close to his cock.

"I...want..." he stuttered breathlessly. 

"Say it."

"Take me...another club? Like..."

Shawn couldn't keep his lips from twisting into a smirk. "Oh? I'm sure we can find one."


	5. Locked On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for joining us for another sleazy Retro Night at the Heist! You can probably tell this originally had a much more downbeat ending but I was like fuck it sleaze it up until the end. Now with 10% more feelings.

Shawn sank back into the bench. He hated being the top, _hated_ , but watching Bret suck his dick with glossy eyes and a messy mop of hair made him want to throw the other man up against the glass. That would come later.

He cut a deal for a "private viewing room" at the club, so long as they remained discrete. Wouldn't want any bars around town getting burned to the ground, would we? Shawn paid cash upfront for the booth and got a cut of the profit that would surely be rolling in. The club owner had eagerly agreed and for everyone's trouble they got a live sex show featuring a couple of their weekday heroes. Everyone wins.

The best part was keeping Bret all to himself--this must be how his other lovers felt, or how they should feel with him, anyway. He could slut around all he wanted and Shawn could loan him out to a few jobbers every now and then, as long as he knew where his home was. As long as he was begging for him by the end of the day, wanting to please him. It was a weird sort of paradise he couldn't imagine just a few weeks ago.

He pulled Bret back by his mass of hair. He looked like he was in that feel-good fuzzy headspace with unfocused eyes and that faraway, loopy grin. Shawn smiled in return; he was sure someone more professional would say that was dangerous, but...

He brought the two of them up with one movement and positioned Bret over the couch--so the boys outside could get their money's worth, of course--and yanked his pants the rest of the way down. He slapped his ass one good time and reached for the lube that was slowly hiding itself away from him between the cushions on the bench. Bret like to be babied and stretched and lubed and all that good stuff, again way out of Shawn's realm of experience but he was getting used to it. Two or three fingers to get his ass sopping wet was all he needed before he was squealing and squirming and clenching around him. Shawn was slightly embarrassed to even internally admit sometimes that was all he needed to get off. 

Shawn positioned his cock and shoved in without warning, sending Bret's head snapping up with a grunt and Shawn could see he was gripping the edge of the bench white-knuckle tight. Shawn didn't bother giving him time to adjust and just grabbed a fistful of his hair recklessly as Bret hissed and thrust back into it.

"H-harder!"

Oh? That was new, Bret was usually pretty quiet except for the odd needy moan. Which he was doing excessively...was he trying to punk him out? Shawn growled and bit into Bret's shoulder. Bret howled and grabbed his own cock to pump in rhythm with Shawn's increasingly erratic thrusts.

"Gonna come already? Pathetic." 

Shawn was seeing red in one eye and white in the other. When did his little Brettie get so nasty-talking? It was like...he'd been listening to Shawn. He made a mental note to laugh at that later, but for now he was giving in at great risk to his back and knees. But it didn't matter, because Bret had snatched the arm that Shawn was holding free, and dragged it to his lips to bite, hard enough to draw a little bead of blood. And then he tossed his head back and _glared_ at him so hard Shawn thought he might die on the spot. The noise and lights melted away and he didn't even realize he was cumming until he saw his seed spilling out of Bret's ass.

Bret wasn't content to just let him pull out, so he flipped himself around onto his back and took hold of Shawn's softening cock for another round.

"Not yet, motherfucker."

_Ow ow shit that kinda hurts_ , Shawn thought but to his horror his staff was trying to get back at it in the most confusing fashion. He stood up to give himself some more leverage and balanced Bret's legs over his shoulders clumsily and went back at it, with his bottom who acted like he was flat out refusing to come until he made some sort of point. It made Shawn blind with rage and arousal at the same time and he wasn't sure which was going to get to him first. 

Bret brought him in for a kiss that ended with him coming away with a rose-colored spit trail from his bloodied tongue and bottom lip and he finally came--hands-free so as not to damage Shawn's pride too much further--and clenching around him so good and tight that Shawn managed a short, second wave of spurts before his dick finally decided it had had quite enough of the man in front of him.

They stared each other down, equal parts pleased, disgusted, and exhausted. Bret was still glaring at him but it was a lower wattage, and Shawn knew he wasn't entirely mad...or at least, not serious about being mad. 

The hundreds of thirsty men outside bamming on the glass finally filtered in, and Bret retreated back into his mental world of "this is not happening". Shawn had figured out that whole aftercare thing, finally, and brushed his hair back and whispered in his ear.

"Ready to go?"

"Y-yeah."

Of course, Shawn has yet to mention he's essentially whoring Bret out for a little extra pocket change but what were financial matters between lovers? And that's pretty much what they were, Shawn had firmly decided, even though Bret still pretended he had a seething hatred towards him and everything he stood for. 

Shawn got them both out of the club okay without losing too many articles of clothing or having to sign any autographs, and back to his rental vehicle for the evening. Shawn liked renting his own cars when he was with Bret, it gave them time to stare at each other some more and there was always the possibility of backseat sex. 

What they hardly ever did was talk, which did tick Shawn off a little because it reminded him that they were still fundamentally different people. And he knew Bret talked fine to _other_ people, but when it came to Shawn a cat suddenly caught his tongue. 

"Have fun?" he asked like a dad picking up the boys after a baseball game.

"I guess."

"You guess," Shawn muttered, "but who did I hear begging for the cock." 

Bret sighed; that's why he didn't bother talking with Shawn, it was all purely to stroke his ego. Sensing this, Shawn purred lightly and rubbed a finger up Bret's thigh.

"It was all about you, wasn't it? Give me a chance, I'm still learning."

Bret raised his eyebrow. "Learning what?"

"What...you like." 

Bret knew that was Shawn's best attempt at being sweet, so he rewarded him with by nuzzling his shoulder and letting his head rest there. 

Shawn hummed with satisfaction and kept that self-serving grin plastered on his face as he rolled into the parking lot to drop Bret off. It was still early enough for a few bystanders to be out and about, probably wondering what the hell Bret Hart was doing in a car with Shawn Michaels--because of course he picked the most public place he possibly could, and Bret rolled his eyes but didn't say anything. Couldn't say anything. He just got out and shut the door behind him and kept his shoulders up even though he was highly aware of what the situation surely looked like on the outside. 

Even if the two of them had no idea what it looked like themselves. 

Shawn didn't let himself dwell on that psychological nugget too long and settled for ignoring the mark at his window to watch Bret vanish into the hotel lobby, locked on.


End file.
